Written in Blood
by OvercastCrystal
Summary: Magic does not depend on genes, and no matter how "pure" one's blood is, it can always be tainted. The untold story of a Pure-blood squib born to one of the most infamous families. (Somewhat dark content, mentions of abuse) OC


AN: Hello, Readers. It has been a long time, but this idea keeps running through my head, so to get me back into the creative mode of writing, I am going to try this, and depending on how I feel, I will try to update as I can. Please tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, that amazing privilege belongs to J. K. Rowling ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: The Curse of Abnormalities

What is magic? Energy pulsing through a wavelength beyond our understanding, connecting though seemingly impossible impulses and creating wonders before our eyes. And yet, it is both a wonderful and horrible thing. It is pure, except when corrupted by those who wield the wands with terrible intentions. Magic, I have come to realize, is neither black nor white, if anything it is more like the many shades of rain clouds which envelope the skies on a dark night, holding the same promise as every drop of rain, and yet the same threat of a hurricane which devastates populations. This I know all to well, and yet it is still the only thing I really hope for anymore, despite knowing how pointless my wishing is…

:"Do it," Father snarls behind me, the pain of the invisible blade tearing through the flesh in my back, the warm sticky ooze now soaking my torn dress, while I try the hardest I can to keep standing.

 _10…_

Eyes stinging with sweat, I try to focus on the feather in front of me, holding the wand with a firm grip wishing I could do something other than just stand here helplessly.

"Wingardium Leviosa," my voice comes out cracked, sounding more pathetic than the limp feather that doesn't even flicker with my swish and flick.

"Do it, Girl," the bark of a command sounds ever more furious, and I know exactly what comes after this. Yet the feather remains still, and I cannot help the betrayal of the tear that slowly leaks down my cheek as another stinging slash tears open my back and blood mats in my hair as the strands cling to the liquid.

 _11…_

"Really now," the cool voice of my savior come in behind, catching the last tiny bit of hope I have left in my soul long enough to swallow back the scream, "You continue on like this, Lucius, and you would be more likely to break your want than get that feather to move." Severus comes strolling into the room as if he owned the manor, looking at him with a stern look as my mother looked hopelessly behind.

"Let's go to bed, Dear. Remember you have a meeting with the Minister in the morning." My mother's eyes plead with him to come with her, and I could see the instant his eyes changed for her, following her without even another glance at me before walking into her arms. I could see the torn look in her eyes, and knew the pain she felt seeing me this way; with that one look into my eyes I can see how powerless she felt, and in my pain I still pitied her for the fact that she only had the strength to watch and do nothing.

The instant the door closes, what strength I had in me dies, and I fall into the arms of my godfather, letting go of all my weight as he lifts me into his arms, and my eyes close as my head drifts on his shoulder, not even blinking as he strides into the fireplace and the green flames of the floo lick my skin, feeling like tingling energy that cools the skin rather than heats, but the feeling doesn't last long as he strides us though into a larger space I know is his living room without needing to open my eyes.

His steps become gentler somehow, and his demeanor shifted to the kind, caring man that has always been there for me, carrying me up the stairs toward the guest room, laying me gently down on my stomach. He mumbles a spell under his breath, and I can feel the senses in my back go numb, only aware of the slight warm and icky feeling of the blood still oozing from my wounds. His movements are quick and swift as he exits and enters the room with the appropriate potions in tow, and he wastes no time as he quickly washes his hands in the adjoining water closet and strides back in like a professional healer, applying the necessary treatment. The potion stings, but I feel as if the wounds a bubbling and sealing themselves back up, the skin melting back together each layer at a time.

I try to speak, but for a moment all that comes out is a cough as a bubble of blood comes up my throat. "Thank you," I finally manage to utter as Severus kneels before me on the floor, gently wiping the blood and sweat off my forehead, and applying a gentle bit of the potion to the cut above by eyebrow.

"He deserves Azkaban for this," I could see a cold hearted fury in his eyes that I never want to see directed at me, but is eyes grow soft and worried as a bubble of a laugh only brings up blood in my throat from the most recent bleeding, moving quickly to help with a rag as he looks at my back to find the broken rip still poking dangerously into my lung.

"You know they don't send purebloods to Azkaban for beating a squib."

"They should," with a flick of his wand, the horrible crack of by bone snapping back together and healing itself takes the wind out of me, and the cells of my lung heal as if they had never been torn, bearing no evidence to the fact it happened other than the blood still finding its way up my windpipe.

"You know as well as I do, people fear that they don't understand, so the would sit back and let him try to beat the magic out of me than admit that magic doesn't depend on blood, and no mater how pure or supposedly dirty one's blood is, one can still be born without magic. They wouldn't want to admit that the magical gene could be switched of at any generation." My voice come back to the flat dead tone that I have adapted as my own with a twinge of bitter truth, in between minor spurts of clearing my throat, the ache in my muscles the only bodily proof beside the blood that anything had happened.

The glass in his hand and the corresponding jar on the nightstand already uncorked and poured out before me makes me cringe in slight anticipatory anxiety, but I say nothing as I take the dreaded swill and feel the liquid burn horribly in my esophagus, resisting the urge to throw it right back up. "Curse of being abnormal." My voice sounds more like a croak as I cringe back from the potion feeling, but his eyes stay transfixed on mine, and I see his eyes become ever-more haunted with a soft regret, turning away from me to fix a cool bath in the tub.

He says nothing as he prepares the bath with more healing potions, only speaking when he was finished and turns back to look at me, his voice barely a whisper, yet holding no less strength than if he were yelling, "None of this is your fault, and you are no less brilliant and have no less worth than if you had the highest grades at Hogwarts."

His words penetrate deep into what parts of my soul I have left, but I can't think of anything to say as he comes and gently places a kiss on my forehead. Walking away, he leaves me to my privacy without another sound, and just as the door is about to close, he steps slightly back in long enough to say, "You are staying here today."

The candlelight makes shadows on the door which I am left staring at for a moment in his wake, and for the first time tonight I can actually begin to breathe calmly. This tiny, sealed room the single safest place for me in this world, and once again I feel grateful for this little safe haven. Moving forward through the motions without thinking, I find myself sinking into the cool, refreshing water as the potions work their magic. As my lids slip closed, another tear leaks out the corner of my eye as again I wish in vain I could perform magic as easily as them, but feeling the deep pit inside my soul forever haunts the forefront of my mind, knowing that I never could.

Tell me what you think. One of those ideas that wouldn't go away, so support if you like, and will go as the story takes me.


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